


Chocolate

by windfish



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9188639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfish/pseuds/windfish
Summary: Kukui and Guzma talk over frozen yogurt together. Post-game.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just some Kukui/Guzma because I want more and I guess I have the ability to make more content?! Not related to As the Sand Loves the Sea but it can be if you want, I guess.

                “You know, you really haven’t changed much.” Kukui’s tone stayed the same, cheerful, obnoxious level that it was always at, but Guzma didn’t mind anymore. That was just Kukui, and he was right—he looked at his frozen yogurt, chocolate and cheesecake, covered in sprinkles and candy and sugar just like when he was an insecure pre-teen trying to find comfort in whatever he could. Guzma wasn’t sure what did change, after all. He got taller and more muscular and more angry and more sad after he ran away, but _why_?

                “I guess. What’d you get, whey yogurt with protein flakes and like, _kale_?” Kukui, on the other hand, had grown up, grown wise; he had a wife, a job, some semblance of normalcy and happiness in his life—

                “Vanilla and berries.” That didn’t change, though. He just took out the cereal.

                “Mine’s better.” Kukui didn’t reply and Guzma took it as being _right_ for once. “Vanilla sucks ass, but I guess you are what you eat, huh?” Kukui smiled and laughed at that, but for once Guzma didn’t feel like it was at _him_. He wasn’t making fun of him. Did he _ever_ make fun of him? His brain felt like a soup of feelings and intent swirling around in an otherwise empty skull, trying to reform itself into something that worked _correctly._ He filled the soup with chocolate and sprinkles, just concentrating on the flavours in his mouth. It reminded him of his childhood.

                The first time he had frozen yogurt with Kukui, the other boy didn’t even know—he just said that Guzma seemed like he needed a friend and copious amounts of sugar, and he was right. Kukui was _always_ right and it used to piss him off. It would have pissed him off earlier in the year, maybe even last week. But right now, with the warm and sticky summer air and the crisp, salty breeze, Guzma didn’t mind so much. Frozen yogurt had been something of a code to them, somewhere they slipped away to when things just didn’t turn out right. Tournament losses, Kukui’s first crush telling him he had cooties, and as time went on, more serious break-ups and relationships.

                When Kukui realised a pattern to the bruises, Guzma noticed a pattern in their froyo visits. It felt wrong to call them dates, even though they were _definitely_ secretly dating—it wasn’t a coincidence that Kukui became much more aware of his bruises and scrapes once they started making out and exploring each other’s bodies. (Guzma was quick to remind him, though, that Kukui had also put his fair share of hickeys and bruises during their more particularly rough sessions, to stop assuming shit. It didn’t work and Kukui knew and Kukui was right _again_.) Kukui never pried while they ate, content to just play with a ball of boba in a small melting puddle of vanilla if he wasn’t feeling it, himself—he just let Guzma eat and be contented with his stomachache in waiting.

                Guzma didn’t realise it had been years since he’d been in a frozen yogurt shop until they had actually walked in— Lusamine and him never really officially _dated_ , since their alignment was supposed to also be a secret, and Guzma wondered if he’d ever be able to be in a relationship where he didn’t feel like he needed to hide. _Those are therapy words._ He wanted to spit his own words back out in disgust and self-loathing, but he had too much left to eat and it wasn’t like Kukui could hear his own thoughts, anyway.

\---

                Guzma’s yogurt habits were somehow the most telling of his old friend’s turmoil—he always got chocolate (and occasionally cheesecake, when he felt like he _really_ needed it), but the amount of yogurt and the ratio of toppings seemed to almost give away everything he was feeling. Kukui didn’t know if Guzma knew how transparent he was with his comfort food, but he knew that today was something of a groundbreaking occasion in his therapy sessions, judging by the copious amounts of _rainbow_ sprinkles, not chocolate, and the fairly unreasonable amount of nonpareil chips in his cup. Brownie chunks, marshmallows and gummy worms added to the mix told Kukui that he was decidedly unhappy, divining his emotions from a cheap plastic cup full of sugar and junk food hidden beneath a ‘fat-free’ label.

                “This shit sucks, you know that?” Guzma was about halfway through, possibly regretting the brownie chunks he added. Maybe he _had_ changed, if only in that his body wasn’t able to handle three pounds of cocoa and sugar anymore.

                “I thought you liked chocolate.”

                “Not that. … _This._ ” Guzma gestured blindly, and Kukui knew what he was talking about, thankfully—if he didn’t, he would have had to guess between the blinds, the service in a serve-yourself yogurt bar, or Kukui himself. The last seemed the most plausible, but he also knew that Guzma was having more than a difficult time in his actual, grown-up therapy. He half-considered to suggest they serve chocolate yogurt at the next one.

                “Yeah.” Kukui’s tone seemed surprisingly plain, matching the disgusting, boring pile of cold not-milk that was in his cup. “It’s going to suck, Guzma.”

                “Why the fuck did you send me there, then?” He jabbed a spoon accusingly at Kukui and noticed a droplet of chocolate making a new home on his white lab coat. Guzma couldn’t possibly give less of a shit about it, though, watching it settle into the fabric with a lazy glare.

                “It’ll get better. You just have to—“

                “I just have to wait, huh? It’ll just get better if I _wait_? I’ve been waiting for twenty-five years, Ku, is the world gonna just start giving a shit because I went to therapy? Like I get some sorta booby prize for being—”

                “It’s not about waiting, it’s about learning.”

                “Learning what? That life sucks and I wasted half of it following shit that just wasn’t gonna ever work out?” Kukui was going to have to stop him from going on one of his near-patented outbursts. Besides, there were children in the frozen yogurt shop and he felt obligated to keep them from hearing any more of Guzma’s sailor mouth than they needed to as his voice started to escalate.

                “You have to learn that people have cared about you since the beginning.” He turned the words back to Guzma, hoping that it wouldn’t worsen the outburst. “I care about you. Burnet cares about you. Plumeria cares about you.”

                “Yeah, whatever.” It seemed to have worked—Guzma’s voice died back down to a reasonable tone as he turned back to his food, pushing a soggy piece of brownie around, watching a blue sprinkle disintegrate into the mass of brown and white yogurt.

                “You don’t have to believe me right now, but… you have to learn that we’re here for you. You don’t have to keep running away, Guzma.” Guzma didn’t finish the cacophony of chocolate and sugar in front of him, and Kukui felt like he’d definitely spoken too soon as he watched the older of the two make a motion that he was done. Kukui grabbed his wrist gently, and Guzma didn’t flinch or pull away—that was a good sign, at least. He kept a careful hold on Guzma’s thick wrist, the concealer covering tattoo ink and scars smudging off onto his fingertips, until they were outside of the frozen yogurt shop and in the shopping district.

                “I know it’s hard for you to understand at this point, but…” Kukui whispered, and placed a delicate kiss as soft as his voice on his friend’s forehead. “We really do love you.”

                Maybe vanilla wasn’t so bad, Guzma thought, as Kukui pried at his lips with his tongue, and Kukui felt somewhat blessed that the rank taste of cigarettes and alcohol was vague and masked largely by chocolate and marshmallows. It was just like back in school, sneaking kisses and touches under fabric before anyone could see, except this time they didn’t have to _hide_. His dad could go fuck himself and if anyone else had something to say about the two of them making out in the tourist district, they could go fuck themselves, too—if not, Guzma would gladly fuck them up.

                They did have standards, though, and even though they were more than okay with exploratory touches, both of them agreed, unspoken, to maybe not start grinding on each other in Hau’oli like a couple of horny teenagers. That’s what Kukui’s lab was for, after all, and what they intended on doing (and maybe a little bit more) once they got there.

\---

                “Apparently what’s wrong with me is a bunch of shitty letters. They don’t even spell anything cool. It’s like… _pasta_ or something. ”

                “I’m glad you’re discovering things about yourself, but you should also understand that there’s nothing _wrong_ with you, either, Guzma, I—“ Kukui’s hand gripped Guzma’s wrist as he started to make his way towards the door, sighing in exasperation. “You’ve got to stop trying to leave in the middle of this.”

                “Don’t touch me.” Guzma said plainly, and Kukui loosened his grip.

                “See, you’re already making progress.” The older of the two looked down, confused, before Kukui continued. “You’re setting boundaries and—“

                “Stop.”

                “I just want you to know I’m proud of you. Even if it takes a while.” Guzma stiffened underneath his fingers, still ghosting his arm, before he pushed the offending hand away. He refused to make eye contact with Kukui, but from his response, Kukui knew that the pieces were finally starting to click back into place.

                “Next week let’s just meet at your place, instead. Frozen yogurt is dumb anyways.”

                “Sure thing, Guzma.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kukui is in an open relationship with Burnet, or at least he is with Guzma-- she knows it was an old flame and how important it is for them to have this, etc. etc., I found it a little hard to outright say it and I think the implication is a little weak so I'm here to clarify it for people who might not have caught it. ✨✨✨


End file.
